The Final Reckoning

Chapter Eighteen: Dumbledore's Requests

After the unnerving experience of his first Dark Arts lesson, the uneasy feelings inspired by Professor Hopkirk, and the awkwardness he felt with Ginny after all that had happened the night before, Harry approached his first Transfiguration lesson of the term with no small amount of relief.

Just entering the classroom eased Harry's mind a bit--it looked the same as ever. Professor McGonagall was at the front of the room preparing what appeared to be an elaborate and complicated lesson, but Harry didn't mind this a bit; McGonagall might be demanding and strict, but at least she was there. At least something about school hadn't changed so drastically.

He, Ron and Hermione moved toward the front of the room to choose tables. Hermione hadn't said a word to Harry or Ron yet regarding her trip to the library. Either she'd found nothing of interest, or whatever she had found she felt was too important and complicated to go into at the moment. Harry couldn't imagine what she might have found out about Professor Hopkirk, and part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know. It was bad enough that she left him feeling clammy and unsettled. But that she could be so creepy and yet inspire any kind of sexual desire was what unnerved Harry the most.

Seamus was already sitting with Lavender, and Parvati and Dean were sharing a table with Neville. Harry then saw several Slytherins enter. Almost at once he spotted Daphne, who smiled at him and then nodded to a table. Before Harry realized he was doing it, he was sitting next to her.

Almost at once there were snorts from other Slytherins. Harry turned to see Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle all sitting together and glaring at them. Draco Malfoy sat with Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode--who looked even taller than she had only a few months ago--sat next to Blaise Zabini. All but Blaise regarded Harry with scowls; Blaise gave Harry a cool, not entirely friendly smile and nodded.

Harry nodded back; he was quite sure already that he didn't much like Zabini, but Daphne had mentioned that it was Blaise who made the peace offering to Ron and Hermione in the prefects' meeting on the train.

Might as well be civil, I suppose.

Ron turned and nodded to Daphne before giving Harry a knowing grin as he sat next to Hermione; Hermione waved hello to Daphne, who waved back.

'Hi,' Daphne said softly to Harry, leaning in close. He caught a faint whiff of something floral.

'Hey,' he said, smiling at her and feeling his neck get hot. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail but a few wisps of dark blonde hair had escaped to frame her face and the nape of her neck, which he noticed just then, was long and graceful. His fingers tingled with the urge to touch the skin at the nape of her neck, to feel the wisps of her hair. She looked exceptionally pretty, and he suddenly wondered if it was such a good idea to sit next to her; she might be distracting.

Professor McGonagall turned round in that moment and cleared her throat. She paused long enough for her eyes to widen, just slightly, as she took in the sight of Harry, seated willingly next to a Slytherin girl. McGonagall's thin lips pursed slightly, as though trying not to smile, and she spoke.

'Welcome to Advanced N.E.W.T. Transfiguration,' she said crisply. 'I trust all of you have completed your summer assignments. Please take them out for me to collect.'

There was a rustling of school bags and parchment. Harry fetched his essays and placed them on the table, and Daphne followed suit; that was when Harry noticed her hands: slender and elegant, with long, tapered fingers and neatly manicured but unpolished fingernails.

Yes, she is definitely distracting.

They exchanged smiles as McGonagall summoned everyone's essays neatly forward and stacked them in a large box.

'You'll receive marks for your homework by the end of the week,' McGonagall said. 'If you'll turn your attention to the blackboard...can anyone tell me what I have written here?'

Harry couldn't imagine what the diagram on the blackboard entailed; only that it looked extremely complicated.

Hermione's hand went up.

'Miss Granger,' said McGonagall fondly.

'It's a diagram on Glamour Transfiguration,' Hermione said.

'Very good, Miss Granger,' said McGonagall. 'Five points for Gryffindor. Can anyone explain what Glamour Transfiguration is?'

Hermione's hand went up, along with a few others, including Daphne's.

'Miss Greengrass?' said McGonagall.

'It's a branch of Transfiguration that involves changing one's physical appearance,' said Daphne.

'That's correct,' said McGonagall. 'Five points for Slytherin. Glamour Transfiguration is a difficult level of magic. While Glamour Spells are often used to improve one's physical appearance for the sake of vanity, Glamour Transfiguration has many uses in magical law enforcement. Aurors, in particular, are required to master basic Glamour Transfiguration as part of their undercover training.'

At this, McGonagall gave Harry a pointed look.

'Glamour Transfiguration is not to be confused with using Polyjuice Potion,' McGonagall went on. 'For one thing, a successful glamour spell does not 'wear off' as a potion does. It must be undone with a wand, either by the caster himself, or someone else. The most basic type of glamour spell typically involves changing one's eye colour, or hair colour, or both. More advanced Glamour Transfiguration, however, allows one to change one's height, weight, bone structure, and the like. One can improve one's vision for the purposes of disguise, negating the need for spectacles, for example.

'Today we will work on eye colour. If I could have a volunteer for a demonstration...Mr. Longbottom? Step up to the front of the room, please.'

Neville gulped visibly and stood up, striding nervously to the front of the room.

'Stand here, please,' said McGonagall, indicating a spot about four feet away from her. 'Now,' she added, 'hold still and try not to blink. This won't hurt but it is a touch uncomfortable.'

Neville's eyes went wide with fear as McGonagall pointed her wand at him; she gave it a complicated wave and said 'Mutare oculatus suffuscum!'

Neville gave a whimper as a beam of yellow light struck his blue-grey eyes. In the next instant, they were dark brown.

'Wow,' Seamus muttered, impressed. Neville was blinking furiously and his eyes were now full of tears that began to run down his face.

Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson sniggered, and Ron and Harry both shot them dirty looks.

'Yes, that happens,' McGonagall said, casting her own cool glance at Draco and Pansy. 'Changes to the eyes result in heavy watering for the first minute or two as the eyes grow accustomed to the transformation. But there is no damage to the eyes when the spell is done correctly, and in this basic version one's vision does not change. How are you feeling, Mr. Longbottom?'

Neville, who'd taken a handkerchief from his robe pocket and was dabbing furiously at his eyes, gave a sheepish nod. 'Fine,' he managed, still blinking rapidly.

'Are you able to see?'

'Yeah,' he said, letting his eyes sweep about the room.

'Excellent,' said McGonagall. 'I'm going to undo the spell now. Again, hold still and don't blink. Finite.'

She waved her wand and a jet of reddish light passed over Neville's eyes; they reverted to their original colour. Neville's eyes began to water again, but not as badly, and he recovered more quickly.

'Good show, Mr. Longbottom,' said McGonagall. 'You may sit down. As you noticed, the incantation I used contained three parts: the mutation itself, followed by which part of Longbottom's face I wanted to change, followed by the eye colour. In the early stages of using Glamour Spells you will be using complete incantations. However, as you progress I will expect you to develop the mental focus and discipline to complete Glamour Spells with the wand movement and the simplest incantation. This portion of your study will move quickly. You will be expected to master all the most common and difficult Glamour Spells, and this material will indeed be covered heavily in your N.E.W.T.s. I expect everyone in this class to achieve no less than an E on this portion of study. Open your textbooks to page 482 and read the section on transfiguring eye colour.'

For the next twenty minutes there was silence as everyone stared at the pages of their textbooks. Harry tried hard to absorb what he was reading but Daphne's floral scent--orange blossom--kept drawing his mind away from studying. Several times he found himself watching her read; she looked very serious and took several notes. He only stopped when she finally caught him at it; he blushed and quickly turned his eyes to page 482, but he caught Daphne smiling to herself out of the corner of his eye.

The remainder of class was spent on practicing the Eye Colour Change Spell; the wand movement was exceptionally difficult. Both Daphne and Hermione mastered it quickly--it was a graceful, loopy sort of wave that seemed tailor-made for a girl to do. In fact, as Harry looked round the room he noticed that the girls seemed to be the only ones able to do the wand movement really well. All but Millicent, whose wand movement was about as clumsy as that of Crabbe and Goyle.

McGonagall then started moving about the room, asking each student to perform the spell on a partner. Hermione did it perfectly on the first try; Ron got it right on the second. Crabbe and Goyle blinded one another and got zero marks for the day, and had to be escorted by Theodore Nott to the hospital wing. Harry managed the spell itself but had difficulty with the counter spell--it took him three tries to get Daphne's eyes back to their original hazel colour--and McGonagall gave him extra homework, in addition to the two foot essay on basic Glamour Charms.

Harry said goodbye to Daphne--who gave him one of her rather dazzling smiles as she left--and joined Ron, Hermione and Neville.

'McGonagall sure knows how to lay it on thick,' Ron grumbled. 'You'd think after last year...'

'If she didn't let us off the hook last term she's not going to start now,' said Hermione. 'And it's our N.E.W.T. year. Although to be honest, I am a little surprised she's given us so much work.'

'You're surprised about that?' said Harry incredulously.

'Well, she is Headmistress, don't forget,' said Hermione sagely. 'That takes a lot of time and energy, and she's not exactly a spring chicken anymore. Dumbledore wasn't teaching any lessons when he was Headmaster. All the work McGonagall gives us has to be graded, so she's really giving herself extra work on top of everything else.'

'Maybe McGonagall takes after you, love,' said Ron. 'The more work she has, the happier she is.'

'Cute,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes and smiling.

'Hey, Hermione, what did you find in the library, anyway?' Neville asked. 'When you went before your Ancient Runes class?'

'Oh,' said Hermione, and she went slightly pink in the face. 'Well...I can't go into it here but I've got a theory.'

'Which you plan on sharing with us, I hope,' said Ron.

'Tonight, after the meeting with Dumbledore,' said Hermione. 'And after we do homework and you do those prefect schedules, Ron.'

Ron and Harry exchanged glances and grinned.

'Okay, after homework and schedules,' said Harry.

'Speaking of schedules,' said Ron, 'when were you planning on holding Quidditch try-outs, Harry?'

'Oi, I forgot about that,' said Harry, groaning.

'You forgot?' Ron said, appalled. 'Hello, Harry, it's sort of important, you know, and you're the bloody captain--'

'Ron, honestly,' said Hermione. 'There are more important things than Quidditch.'

'I'm going to try and forget you said that, Hermione,' said Ron, eyeing Harry.

'Oh, for heaven's sake!' said Hermione, throwing up a hand in exasperation.

'Ron's right,' said Harry quickly. 'I can't believe I didn't think of it. This year's just starting off all weird and I can't get my head on straight. Let's do it Saturday afternoon. I'll put up some signs and book the pitch.'

'Good show,' said Ron enthusiastically. 'Hopefully we'll get some qualified people to come in.'

Harry nodded but said nothing else. The truth was he hadn't really forgotten about Quidditch at all. Rather, every time he thought about it, he couldn't help but remember how the final match last term had ended, with Death Eaters and Dementors swarming the grounds, attacking, killing and maiming students, teachers and Aurors as they went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry's uneasy feelings continued through dinner, only this time his thoughts refocused themselves on the impending meeting with Dumbledore. Harry knew in his gut that the meeting would not be a happy one.

The uneasiness he felt left his stomach unsettled, and he had to force himself to eat something. Halfway through the main course he felt a familiar chill pass through him, followed by a blast of heat: Professor Hopkirk strode past the Gryffindor table in a sweep of black robes, and took her seat at the staff table. In spite of her eerie presence, Harry found himself watching her.

At once Harry noticed that she spoke with none of the other professors. She ate her food with a bizarre combination of clinical precision--cutting her roast into perfect bite-sized pieces--and raw sensuality, closing her eyes as she chewed and licking her lips slowly after every bite. Her hands shook, but colour slowly began to fill her cheeks as she ate.

Harry was just about to tell himself to stop staring at her when her eyes met his. The ice-blue irises darkened and bored into his green ones, and she smiled, just slightly, without showing any teeth. Harry felt a rush of warmth in his blood and grimaced as he felt a pronounced stirring in his trousers. But unlike the pleasant tingling he'd felt when he'd kissed Daphne--and in the early moments of kissing Ginny--this arousal was nothing short of disturbing.

Harry looked away and shifted in his seat, feeling unclean. Dirty. And a bit sick to his stomach. When pudding arrived, he didn't eat any of it, and suddenly Harry very much wanted to go to Dumbledore's office; no matter how bad the meeting with him promised to be, it couldn't be as uncomfortable as sitting in the same room with Professor Hopkirk.

Harry left the Great Hall in advance of Ron, Hermione and Neville, and it was only then that he noticed Ginny wasn't there. He might have thought on this further, but as he left the Great Hall he bumped into Daphne.

'Ouch,' she said, as he collided with her.

'Sorry,' he said quickly, blushing. 'Sorry. I...wasn't paying attention.'

'Obviously,' said Daphne, but she was smiling at him. An instant later, however, her face turned serious. 'Are you okay, Harry?'

'I'm fine,' Harry said quickly. 'Just...not very hungry.'

'Daphne, are you coming?' said a male voice.

Harry and Daphne turned to see Blaise Zabini standing there with his arms folded.

'Potter,' he said coolly, nodding.

'Hi, Zabini,' said Harry, keeping his voice as even as he could.

'Daph?'

'You go on, Blaise,' said Daphne. 'I'll see you in the common room in a bit.'

Blaise said nothing for a moment; his vivid blue eyes darted from Daphne to Harry and back again, and then he finally nodded.

'Right,' he said. 'See you in a while, then.'

''Bye,' said Daphne, waving to Blaise; Harry gave the other boy a curt nod, which Blaise returned before he walked off in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons.

'Sorry,' said Daphne.

'For what?' said Harry.

'I know it's...well, it's a bit awkward, what with...our history and all,' she said, blushing.

'I didn't know you and I had a history,' said Harry, grinning.

Where the hell did that come from? Are you trying to be...smooth, Potter?

'You know what I mean,' she said, blushing deeper. 'Blaise is trying.'

'I know,' said Harry, not really wanting to talk about Blaise Zabini. 'He's not so bad, I guess.'

'He'd probably say the same thing about you,' said Daphne. 'He's a bit protective of me, that's all.'

'Ah,' said Harry. 'Er, why?'

At this, Daphne went so red her face was the same shade as Ron's hair.

'Well...you see,' she said awkwardly, 'we...used to go out. Last year.'

'Oh,' said Harry, and now he really didn't want to talk about Blaise Bloody Zabini.

'We broke up just before the summer holiday,' she went on. 'We decided we were better off just being friends.'

'Right,' said Harry, running a hand through his hair.

'Listen to me, blathering on about an ex,' said Daphne, giggling nervously. 'You don't want to hear about that.'

Not really, Harry thought. But instead he said, 'That's okay.'

'Are you...busy right now?'

'No,' said Harry at once.

'Do you want to take a walk outside?' she asked, looking a bit shy and entirely unlike a Slytherin.

'Sure,' said Harry. As they headed toward the doors leading out to the grounds, Harry checked his watch. An hour until the meeting with Dumbledore.

A lot can happen in an hour.

And Harry forgot completely about Professor Hopkirk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They talked for a while, about inconsequential things, as they walked about the edge of the lake. Harry learned that Daphne's family had all been Slytherins but for a great-great-great grandmother who'd been a Ravenclaw; Daphne joked, however, that she was destined for Slytherin, because green was her favourite colour and she'd grown up with a pet python named Nigel.

'Not really cuddly, then,' said Harry, shuddering at the idea of having a snake as a pet.

'Well, not soft and furry, anyway,' said Daphne, shrugging. 'But he was really affectionate. Only, you had to be careful about that because he liked to wrap himself round people and squeeze. And of course feeding time was never much fun, either. All those poor, cute little mice--'

'Er, you...don't need to elaborate on that,' said Harry, holding up his hand and grinning.

'Squeamish, Potter?' said Daphne archly. 'And here I thought you were a Gryffindor.'

'Let's just say I've never been a fan of snakes,' Harry said, looking away.

'Oh,' said Daphne, her tone suggesting that she understood. They walked a bit more in a slightly uncomfortable silence, and found themselves standing under the beech tree where he always came to study with Ron and Hermione. Where his father James had sat, ruffling his hair and trying to impress Lily Evans.

Harry sat down and looked out at the lake; the sun reflected off the water and made a dazzling trail of light.

Daphne sat next to him.

'Is this a favourite spot of yours?' she asked.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Do you mind?'

'No,' she said, smiling softly, and she moved a bit closer to him.

Harry felt his heart begin to pound, and he wondered if he'd get to kiss her again. Instead, he broke the brief silence by speaking.

'You know, I was almost a Slytherin,' said Harry.

Daphne stopped and looked at him.

'Really?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, shrugging. 'The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin; it said I'd do well in there.'

'But it didn't put you in Slytherin,' said Daphne. 'Why not?'

'I asked it not to,' said Harry, flushing slightly.

Daphne looked at him for a moment with narrowed eyes.

'Wise move,' she said finally, nodding. 'You're a Gryffindor if ever I've seen one.'

'Should I take that as a compliment?' he asked.

'Definitely,' she said. 'I'm glad you're not a Slytherin. I probably wouldn't like you as much.' She smiled softly at him and licked her lips.

'Yeah?' he said, feeling his neck grow hot and electricity surge up and down his spine as he unconsciously moved closer to her.

'Yeah,' she murmured, and she placed a cool hand against his cheek just before he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers.

She kissed him back, slowly, just moving her lips against his, and the tingling in his body increased as the blood pounded in his ears, and then he deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his. She tasted of treacle tart.

It was a few minutes before they stopped; Harry's skin was burning from the inside out and his trousers were pinching him now, and he was grateful for his school robes. Daphne's face was flushed and her lips red and swollen, and she looked beautiful. Harry wished it was already Sunday, when he could spend the whole day with her and not worry about...

'Shit,' he said suddenly, looking at his watch. He leapt up and brushed grass from his robes.

'W-what?' Daphne said, confused, getting up as well.

'Sorry,' he said. 'I...damn. I've got to go.'

'Oh,' she said, biting her lip. 'Er, okay.'

'I don't want to leave,' said Harry quickly, taking her hands in his. 'I just...have a meeting and I'm late--'

'Okay,' said Daphne. 'I'll...see you in Potions, then.'

'Right, Potions,' said Harry, hating that he had to leave now and face...whatever he had to face in Dumbledore's office. 'I'll see you.'

He started to walk away when he remembered himself, and he turned and kissed her soundly for a moment, lingering a bit too long but unable to help himself.

He then took off for Dumbledore's office at a run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Ah, Harry, you've made it.'

Dumbledore sat at his desk, with Fawkes--looking a bit peaked (Harry thought perhaps a burning day was in the near future)--perched nearby. Harry tried to catch his breath--he'd forgotten how big the castle could be when he was trying to get somewhere quickly.

Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny were all seated already, along with a fifth person that Harry hadn't expected but whose presence instantly made sense: Luna Lovegood. Ginny looked tense and tired, but--Harry couldn't help noticing--she also looked very pretty, with her falling over her shoulders in copper waves.

All of them--including the portraits of the old headmasters and mistresses--were looking at him with narrowed eyes. Harry noticed that only Phineas Nigellus appeared to be asleep, and not altogether convincingly.

'Sorry, sir,' Harry panted. 'I...I was...'

I was in the middle of a really good snog, so you can understand why I might be a bit late.

'It's quite all right,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'Your friends only arrived a few minutes ago, and we haven't started yet. Please...sit down.' He indicated a chair

Harry did so, taking that moment to study Professor Dumbledore. Harry felt his stomach clench. Dumbledore looked older than ever. His skin was sallow, ashen, and dry as paper, and dark circles appeared under his blood-shot blue eyes; could he be ill? Harry didn't want to consider it.

'I'm sure you are all wondering why I've called you here,' Dumbledore said, and then Harry noticed just how weak the old wizard's voice had become.

'Much has happened since last June,' Dumbledore went on. 'As you all are probably aware, the Ministry has been trying to track Voldemort's movements ever since the night he fled the Riddle House. According to a source in Bulgaria, Voldemort spent some time there, recovering.'

'Meaning...he's no longer there,' said Harry slowly.

'I'm afraid not,' said Dumbledore. 'The source I speak of...he's a former Death Eater who has been acting as an informant for us. The information he gave us and the Bulgarian Ministry was initially believed to be reliable, but Voldemort managed to flee before the ministry could act.'

'Initially believed?' Harry repeated.

'The informant...was not acting of his own volition,' said Dumbledore. 'He was arrested several weeks ago and was given a choice by the Bulgarian magical law enforcement--he could either go to prison or he could worm his way back into Voldemort's good graces and act as a spy against him.'

'Does the Bulgarian Ministry think...Voldemort found out what the informant was doing?' Ron asked.

'That is the fear, yes, on their side and ours,' said Dumbledore. 'Unfortunately, an informant who acts under duress more often than not proves to be less reliable than one who volunteers. More importantly, the informant has gone missing. Nobody has heard a word from him in almost a month. The Bulgarian Ministry has conducted a cursory investigation but...they are writing him off. They believe he's dead, at Voldemort's hand or on Voldemort's order.'

'Why only a cursory investigation?' Hermione asked, sounding affronted. 'Don't they care what happened to him? They forced him to work for them, didn't they? The least they could do--'

'The Bulgarian Ministry has its hands full,' said Dumbledore gently, lifting a placating hand in her direction. 'They are understaffed, overworked...not unlike we are here. There have several attacks in recent weeks by Death Eaters in Muggle communities. So far a dozen people have been killed and at least that many more tortured.'

'What?' Harry breathed. 'But...there was nothing about that in The Daily Prophet...and I never...I didn't sense anything...'

'The Bulgarian Ministry is keeping the attacks quiet for now,' said Dumbledore gravely. 'They fear widespread panic and are doing all they can to avoid it.'

'But...but they can't keep it secret for long,' said Ginny. 'Not if the attacks continue.'

'No, they can't,' said Dumbledore. 'But...it is these attacks that are preventing the Bulgarians from devoting their attentions elsewhere. They don't have enough Aurors to spare to go searching for one man, particularly one they are quite sure is dead by now.'

'But what if he isn't?' said Hermione urgently. 'He could have run away, he could be in hiding, maybe he knows something--'

'I'm inclined to agree, Miss Granger, that this is a possibility,' said Dumbledore. 'As does Madam Bones. She has asked permission from the Bulgarian Minister of Magic to conduct a more thorough investigation and search for the missing informant, using one of our people.'

'Forgive me, sir,' said Ron hesitantly, 'but...what does that have to do with us?'

'Your brother Charles is the one doing the investigating,' said Dumbledore. 'He was already in Bulgaria on assignment with the Order. He has some contacts there and throughout Eastern Europe.'

'Charlie?' said Ron, with a look on his face that suggested he didn't like this bit of news at all. 'But...well, he's not exactly inconspicuous, is he?' Ron indicated his bright red hair.

Yes, a freckled redhead would probably stand out in a country full of olive-skinned, dark haired people.

'I believe you are currently beginning study of Glamour Charms in your Transfiguration Lessons,' said Dumbledore. 'Your brother is quite skilled with those.'

'It sounds really dangerous,' said Ginny nervously.

'It is,' said Dumbledore heavily. 'I won't lie to you about that.'

Ginny and Harry exchanged glances; worry was written all over her face, and she bit her lip.

'Does anyone know when this informant went missing?' Hermione asked.

'The Bulgarian Ministry last heard from the informant on 30 July,' said Dumbledore.

'So he went missing in the middle of Lucius Malfoy's trial,' said Hermione.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'The coincidence is rather glaring.'

'Why didn't Charlie say anything about this?' Ron demanded. 'Do Mum and Dad know?'

'They do now,' said Dumbledore. 'This was only agreed upon yesterday, and the news came to your parents today. They're not happy about it, but it was Charlie's decision to make. He hasn't told anyone else because it is necessary to keep this a secret.'

Harry was only half-listening to Dumbledore when something clunked in his brain.

'The informant,' he said. 'Is it Karkaroff?'

Dumbledore looked at Harry with raised eyebrows for a moment, and Harry knew he'd guessed correctly. But Dumbledore said, 'I'm afraid I am not at liberty to discuss that, Harry. But there are other things I must discuss with all of you now that directly affect all of you.

'I do not think I need to emphasize to all of you how important it is that Harry defeat Voldemort. The question is how he can do it.'

Dumbledore paused, removed his glasses, and rubbed at his eyes. He took a deep breath before he continued.

'He cannot do it alone,' said Dumbledore, as his eyes wandered over each student sitting in the office. 'He needs the help of all of you, and of us.'

'Sir--' Harry began, feeling nervousness rush through his blood. He didn't like this--the idea of endangering his friends. Again.

'You are all perhaps wondering why I hired Professor Hopkirk,' Dumbledore said. Harry blinked, thrown off balance by the change of subject.

'Please, sir,' said Hermione. 'Why...why did you hire her? Those books she's using for her classes--'

'Are restricted, yes,' said Dumbledore. 'But they are being used for a reason. I am hoping that Harry will find something useful in them to use against Voldemort. He cannot successfully perform Unforgivable Curses--which include the Killing Curse, of course--so he will have to find a different way to destroy Voldemort.'

A low hum of breath from Harry and the others filled the room.

'You hired her...to help me?' Harry managed.

'That was my number one priority, yes,' said Dumbledore. 'I am aware that she is...unconventional.'

Ron bit back a snort and covered it with a cough.

'But she is very skilled, and she has been granted permission by the Ministry and the Board of Governors to...bend the usual rules,' Dumbledore said. 'None of you will be having practical lessons in how to perform Unforgivable curses, and you will not be permitted to use Unforgivable curses, nor will any of you be tested on them in your N.E.W.T.s. But you will all learn the theories and methods behind them, and you will be learning some forms of magic that...I had not previously deemed suitable for students.'

'But sir--' Hermione protested.

'Please understand, Miss Granger,' said Dumbledore gently. 'I have had to placate a lot of worried parents. This was a compromise I made with the Board of Governors; they were ready to allow all of you to actually learn how to use the darkest of Dark Magic.'

'Professor Hopkirk,' said Hermione. 'She knows how to use Dark Magic, doesn't she?'

'She was trained at Durmstrang,' said Dumbledore, and Hermione nodded nervously, her question answered.

'Getting back to Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'I'm asking for your help, to help him.'

'Of course,' said Ron at once.

'Ron--'

'Harry, there is no avoiding danger to your friends now,' said Dumbledore gravely. 'You know you cannot do this on your own.'

Harry nodded.

'In examining the various strengths of each of you,' said Dumbledore, 'I'm going to ask all of you to...take on particular tasks.

'Mr. Weasley...I think it's time you started receiving proper training.'

'Training?' said Ron, looking very nervous. 'You mean...are you saying...'

'I'm saying that as of now, your gift is no longer in doubt,' said Dumbledore, and Harry watched as Ron's shoulders sagged.

'What gift?' Neville asked.

'That is for Mr. Weasley to tell you, Neville,' said Dumbledore. He turned back to Ron. 'I know this is difficult for you to accept, Mr. Weasley but...there it is. However, if you are to master your gifts you'll need training. I've asked Professor Firenze to tutor you once a week on a day of your mutual choosing, at a time that suits your schedules. Agreed?'

'Okay,' said Ron glumly. 'Yeah. I'll do it.'

'I know I'm asking a lot,' said Dumbledore. 'What with Head Boy duties on top of everything else. But I would not place this responsibility upon you if I believed you couldn't handle it.'

Ron nodded. 'Yes, sir,' he said, swallowing hard.

'Miss Granger,' Dumbledore went on, 'I know you've already started your research. I'm going to ask you to continue, and to make copies of your notes and present them to Professor McGonagall and to me.' He then reached inside his desk and removed a small scroll, which he handed to her.

'This is an Unlimited Use Pass for the Restricted Section, signed by me,' said Dumbledore.

'Yes, sir,' said Hermione.

'Mr. Longbottom,' said Dumbledore.

'Y-yes?'

'I'd like you to take over D.A. meetings,' he said. 'Professor Hopkirk will be running them but she'll need a right hand person, and I'd prefer it be you this year.'

Neville glanced at Harry and bit his lip; Harry couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. He'd liked running D.A. meetings. But he nodded at Neville.

'Okay,' Neville said, his voice shaky.

'Miss Lovegood,' said Dumbledore. At this Luna turned her wide blue eyes to him.

'Yes?' she asked, her normally hazy voice now clear and focused.

'You have shown tremendous ability with wandless magic,' he said. 'I'm going ask you to do three things. First, you will also assist Professor Hopkirk during D.A. meetings, when the focus is on using wandless magic. Second, I'd like you to assist her in Defence lessons as well, for your sixth-year classmates. And finally, I want you to work individually with Harry. The two of you can work out a schedule but make sure it's at least once a week. You do not need to start right away, but the sooner the better.'

Luna gave Harry a dreamy but sympathetic smile, and he nodded again.

'Okay,' she said.

'Fine,' said Harry, feeling his stomach grow tighter by the minute. The way things were going he wondered if he'd have any free time at all.

'Finally, Miss Weasley,' said Dumbledore. Harry's eyes moved to Ginny, who stood up. 'I have been in consultation with Madam Pomfrey, and she tells me...your gifts are beyond exceptional but that you've been having difficulty controlling them.'

Ginny flushed; Neville looked even more confused. Harry grimaced.

That's why she freaked out last night. She...she can't control her powers, and when they go out of control it hurts her. And...Merlin. Does kissing make her powers go haywire?

'Yes, sir,' Ginny muttered.

'It's all right, Miss Weasley,' said Dumbledore gently. 'Nothing to worry about. But I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey's training can only help you so far, as she does not actually share your gifts. I've asked a colleague--a trusted colleague--to take over your training for now. She'll arrive next week and you can arrange sessions with her. In the meantime...I want to give you something that will help you.'

At this Dumbledore rose and turned to one of his shelves. Harry's eyes widened when he saw Dumbledore pick up a familiar looking bowl. Harry was even more disturbed to see the old man's hands tremble, just slightly, as he placed the bowl on his desk.

'Do you know what this is, Ginny?' Dumbledore asked.

'Yes, sir,' she said.

'I'm going to bequeath it to you,' he said. 'Now that I'm retired I...have little need for it. You will notice I have...emptied it for you.'

'But sir--'

'I insist, Miss Weasley,' he said firmly. 'It can only help you to manage your powers more effectively. You know how to use it?'

'Yes,' she said.

'Good,' he said. 'Do keep it out of sight.'

'Okay,' said Ginny, and she picked up the bowl carefully and her eyes fell on the silvery surface of the liquid inside.

'I think...you know what I would ask of you, Miss Weasley,' said Dumbledore carefully. 'But only when you're ready.'

'Yes, sir,' Ginny said, nodding; Harry saw her eyes film over with unshed tears, and his stomach clenched even harder. What on earth did Dumbledore mean? What was he playing at, asking Ginny to do...something...that so obviously hurt her?

'I know I am asking a lot from all of you,' Dumbledore continued. 'But sadly, such things are necessary. Of course nothing that has been discussed her tonight must leave this room. I'll have a word with Harry now; the rest of you are dismissed.'

'Are we still flying later?' Ron mumbled to Harry. ''Cause I need it.'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Me, too.' He reached out and touched Ginny's shoulder gently. 'You?'

'I'll be there. Half an hour?'

'Okay,' said Harry, and he watched as Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna all filed out of the office. Only when Luna closed the door behind her did Harry turn and face Dumbledore.

'What is it, sir?' Harry asked, unable to keep the bite out of his voice.

'You're angry with me,' he said tiredly.

'No, sir,' said Harry.

Dumbledore gave him a look.

Harry sighed. 'Not...angry. Frustrated. This isn't fair, involving them like this.'

'None of it is fair, Harry,' Dumbledore said sadly. 'It wasn't fair that your parents were murdered, that I made you live with those relatives who couldn't and wouldn't love you, it's not fair that you can't have a life of your own. If I had the power I'd destroy Voldemort myself.'

'He's afraid of you,' said Harry. 'Why can't you kill him?'

'You know why,' said Dumbledore.

'The prophecy,' said Harry gloomily, flopping back down into his chair.

'Not only that, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'It is no longer...my time.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean there was a time when I could have destroyed him,' said Dumbledore. 'Long ago. Before he began to immerse himself in Dark Magic, before he left Tom Riddle behind and became Lord Voldemort. But I didn't. I couldn't.'

'Why not?' Harry asked. Dumbledore was doing it again--telling him about some huge mistake he'd made that had even bigger--and more horrible--consequences. The only thing Harry could feel after such revelations was to feel entirely wretched.

'Because I thought he could be...saved,' said Dumbledore. 'I learned too late that...there are many who don't want to be saved.'

Harry nodded.

Yup, I feel wretched. An hour ago I was kissing a really nice, really pretty girl under a tree, and now...

Dumbledore's right. I don't have a life of my own. Everything belongs to him, to bloody Voldemort, to my stupid destiny. And now Dumbledore's gone and retired--

'Sir,' he asked. 'Why...why are you retiring?'

'Ah,' said Dumbledore. 'I was wondering whether you'd ask me about that.'

'Well?' said Harry impatiently.

'You may have noticed, Harry, I'm...not exactly young,' said Dumbledore, smiling sadly.

Harry shrugged. 'Yeah, but...so?'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'Harry, when you reach the age of 150...you'll understand.'

'Wow, you're that old?' said Harry, gracelessly. He had known it on some level of course, but to hear Dumbledore actually say it...

'Well, give or take a few years,' said Dumbledore. 'I'm old, and I'm tired. I'm only staying here because Hogwarts is my home now, and I want to...to be able to keep an eye on you. But I can't last forever, and I won't continue to run this school if I'm not at my best. Professor McGonagall has at least several more decades left in her; she'll do a fine job running this school once I'm gone.'

'Gone?' Harry asked, knowing what he meant, and yet, not wanting to think about it.

'Nobody lives forever, Harry,' Dumbledore said, his face still holding that sad smile.

Harry nodded and swallowed, and felt the sting of tears prick his eyes. He blinked them away.

'I have something for you,' said Dumbledore, interrupting Harry's morose thoughts. 'I would have given it to you on your seventeenth birthday but I was...indisposed.'

He reached into his top desk drawer again and extracted from it a small gold key, which he handed to Harry.

'A key?' Harry asked. 'It...it looks like my Gringott's bank key.'

'It is a key, for another vault,' said Dumbledore. 'But...the vault is not in Gringott's, and it doesn't contain any money, I'm afraid.'

'I don't need any more money,' said Harry. 'So why--'

'The key belonged to your parents,' said Dumbledore. 'They had another vault. A personal vault, containing documents, photographs, records...'

Harry felt the colour drain from his face.

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'I mean,' said Dumbledore, 'that the vault is now yours, and you are free to look at the contents whenever you wish.'

'But...but why now?' Harry asked, feeling anger bubble inside him. 'Why not when I found out...about who I was?'

'It was your parents' wish,' said Dumbledore. 'You were not to inherit the contents of the vault until your seventeenth birthday.'

'Oh,' said Harry, his heart heavy. 'But...why would they want to keep everything a secret? I don't understand.'

'There is so much you don't know about your parents, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Things I wish I could have told you.'

'Tell me now,' said Harry.

'I can't,' said Dumbledore. 'And neither,' he added, when he noticed Harry's eyes flash, 'can Remus Lupin. The documents and records contained in the vault are not simply mementoes of the private lives of James and Lily Potter. There are documents concerning your parents' work. Documents that no one but the direct descendant of James and Lily Potter is allowed to see.'

Harry stared at Dumbledore. 'You mean...you don't know anything about this?'

'Oh, I had some idea,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'A basic notion, but as to the particulars...'

His voice trailed off; Harry's eyes returned to the little gold key in his hand and something dawned on him, something so obvious that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before now, hadn't thought of it since he'd learned, from Mr. Weasley, that such people existed.

'My parents were Unspeakables,' he said slowly. 'Weren't they?'

'Your father was not,' was Dumbledore's answer. He said nothing about Lily Evans, but Harry knew his mother must have been one of them, an Unspeakable.

'And the vault...it's here, isn't it?' he went on.

Dumbledore nodded. 'Your mother requested that her things, and your father's, be stored here; it was the safest place for those things at the time. And they made me their Secret Keeper, so no one has been able to find that vault or is even aware of its existence.'

'Would Voldemort want what's in it?'

'Almost certainly,' said Dumbledore. 'Which is another reason why I never told you until now. To protect you.'

Harry nodded. 'Where is it, then? I want to look inside.'

'Tonight? I'm afraid that's not possible,' said Dumbledore.

'Why not?' Harry demanded hotly.

'Because it is technically past curfew,' said Dumbledore. 'It would not do for you to be seen wandering the corridors.'

Harry started to protest, but then he saw Dumbledore's tired old eyes twinkle.

'Oh,' Harry said, nodding. 'Right. You're right, of course. Some other night, then.'

'Preferably on a night that won't be...busy,' said Dumbledore. 'Perhaps you could arrange for Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to assist you.'

'Yeah,' said Harry.

'As to the vault's location, originally it was here in my office but the summer before your third year I moved it,' Dumbledore went on. 'To a place Professor Lockhart can't remember.'

'Lockhart?' Harry repeated. 'What does he...'

His green eyes widened. 'Oh,' he said again. 'Wait, how did you get it open?'

'After you rescued Miss Weasley I realized it would be an excellent place to store your parents' things; I made sure the entrance wasn't sealed properly until after I could go into it and put the safe inside.'

Harry stared at Dumbledore for a moment, and blinked. 'It's really in there?' he said, amazed.

'I'm afraid so,' said Dumbledore. 'Ironically, it's now the safest place in the castle.'